Walking Among Spirits
by Masako Moonshade
Summary: Drabble Series. Bewilderment often leads to rash decisions. But not everything done in haste is done poorly. ZK
1. Fog

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar. I also don't own the concept I'm using- the drabble series was first developed (as far as I'm aware) by Rashaka.

A/N: Just so you know, don't assume that I'm returning entirely. I honestly don't have a ton of time on my hands, so drabbles and oneshots are all I can offer at the moment. Thank you for your patience, and remember to review.

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Fog

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He continued, never seeing her through the ivory shroud.

At first, she thought he was a Spirit- the mist that filled the wood curled and parted before him like kneeling vassals, casting his dark, graceful form with an ethereal glow. As he drew closer, she realized that he was too solid, too human to be of the Other World. Still, she dared not move or even breathe until he passed, leaving the swirling fog in his wake.

A mask hid his face- horrible, frightening, and yet as graceful and beautiful as the rest of him.

"Wait," Katara whispered at last.


	2. A Humble Request

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

AN: I really am touched by everyone's concern and kindness in your reviews, and your tolerance for my absence. I really do love all the reviews I get, and you guys are giving me great ideas with your comments. Thank you all, and please, keep reviewing! And forgive me if Katara seems a bit OOC... I'm trying as hard as I can. (and all of these chapters (save the next one) are 100 words exactly. Count them if you wish...)

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A Humble Request

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He stopped, turning slowly to face her, making no sound. Again she suspected a being more than human. She saw intelligent light flicker behind the eyes of the cerulean mask.

"I... please help me..." she bowed her head, small and meek in his presence. "I'm lost, and I can't find my friends. Please..."

Her plea shocked even her. She was no coward. Yet the darkness of twilight and the eerie mist whispered of Gran-Gran's stories, of Spirits and Demons...

He was absolutely silent, motionlessly studying her. After an eon's judgment, he shifted, motioning for her to follow. She obeyed.


	3. Phantom

Disclaimer: I have yet to own anything.

AN: I looked at the first draft of this chapter, and it hit me: if I kept it at a plain drabble, I'd never get anywhere. So I made it a double drabble. Enjoy, and please remember to review.

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Phantom

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She wasn't sure how long or far they walked. The moon climbed high above them, and in the mist, they could have gone twenty feet or fifty miles. She wasn't tired- dizzy, perhaps. But she _was_ a fool. Fool enough to trust a stranger to guide her home. But she couldn't find them alone, and...

And he interested her.

No- fascinated.

What human could be so graceful?

Distracted, she stumbled, automatically seizing his wrist to steady herself. He allowed her to regain her feet, then fluidly freed himself from her touch.

_"Katara!"_

The fog thinned obediently at her brother's voice. The masked phantom said nothing, only glanced down at her.

"That's my brother," she explained softly. "Thank-"

"I found her, Aang!" Sokka rushed through the swirling mist. "Katara! Where were you?"

"I just went to get firewood," she admitted quietly. "And the fog-"

"Forget the firewood! You've been gone for hours! You're lucky we found you-"

"But you didn't."

Sokka looked surprised. "Yes, we did. If anything happened- animals, and-"

"You didn't find me, though. He brought me here."

Aang arrived. "Who?"

"Him! Right...here..." she indicated where the man had been standing.

"Katara, there's nobody there. There never was."


	4. A Warm Little Thank You

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

AN: Thank you for your reviews- and just to forewarn you guys, everything I write is part of the same story, but not necessarily in the same order. You'll understand when it happens. Don't worry yet, though.

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A Warm Little Thank You

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A week later she saw him again, through a curtain of rain. Just a shadow and a glimmer of blue- reclined elegantly against a tree's base. He didn't move until the rain bent away from him, gently pulled away.

"I...I didn't get to thank you."

He said nothing.

"Here-" she offered him the blanket in her arms. He did not stir.

"_Sokka, where's Katara?_" Aang's voice wove through the trees.

"I have to go...Thank you again." She bowed before hurrying away.

He waited until she disappeared before he lifted the blanket and wrapped it around his icy shoulders.


	5. Welcome and Unheard

Disclaimer: I still don't own Avatar.

AN: Eight days until the new season begins! I'm really sorry for my lack of updates recently. My computer crashed and it's taken me a while to get it back up and running. Remember that your feedback is like ambrosia to me-- so keep up the reviews! Thank you, my lovely friends.

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Welcome and Unheard

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"I'm sorry to bother you..."

Three days had passed.

"We're looking for Jeong-Jeong. To teach Aang. Do you...?"

He shook his head_. No_. She looked disappointed.

"Oh."

She sat beside him and offered him a roll. He accepted, but did not eat. Or speak.

Sometimes she broke the silence, talking gently, quietly. He listened like a scholar and a child to her reflections, intent, without sound.

Again they met.

Again.

She came to understand him and his comfortable silence. She asked him questions, expecting no answer, brought him food. Always she wondered- i_s he human? _

_Is he real?_


	6. Just Another Nightmare

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

AN: Yes, I deserve to be shot for waiting this long. But there _is_ more to the story, so murdering me would keep you from reading the rest. So until you see "The End" written at the bottom of the page, I'm relatively safe...right? And yes. I realize that it's all in italics. That is intentional.

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Just Another Nightmare

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_A wall of Flame shielded him as the vessel erupted around him, throwing him back among the shrapnel. Searing heat became frigid water that stole his breath, and he was lost amidst the confusion of debris and ash. Something heavy struck him and sank- that way was down. He grabbed it and swam up... until he broke the surface, where Uncle Iroh stood, weeping for the boy who had been lost. The tears stopped, and the old man dragged him from the murk. He who was once Zuko looked down, at the grinning steel mask still clutched in his hand._


	7. The Consequences of Memory

Disclaimer: If wishes were horses, then Beggars would ride. And Masako would have enough horses to mount a cavalry assault on Nick Studios and force them to give her the rights to Avatar!

AN: Another Double Drabble

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The Consequences of Memory

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She never told him stories- _they_ told _her_, flitting from her mouth like birds, going everywhere without her consent. Her explanations were feeble, but sincere, and he accepted them without complaint.

Until the tears began.

She had been speaking of food- good food, hot and tender and sweet and wonderful. But her words came to life, seized her, carried her away- to her home, the war that tore it apart, her father's goodbye, her mother-

She began to cry.

Not big tears, but silent, molten drops that mutilated her cheeks.

"I'm fine..." she forced the words through gritted teeth, ashamed.

He reached out and touched her trembling shoulders. Alien awkwardness resided in the motion, but it did not disturb his elegance, nor his intention.

The shame grew leaden, and she pulled away.

"I'm...sorry...I shouldn't..." the words were broken by sobs and tears yet unshed.

Again he took her shoulders, pulling her gently close. She cried forever into his shoulder, until her tears ran dry and she could feel the warmth of his body and the softness of his hand smoothing her hair and the steadiness of his heartbeat.

"Thank you," she said when her voice regained its strength.


	8. Hanging by a Severed Thread

Disclaimer: I still have yet to own Avatar...Which I regret, but I'm working on it.

AN: Spring Break brings me much happiness...yet not enough time. I'm working all break, and I've still got homework, but I am still writing, and I promise two more updates before Sunday! Thank you all for the reviews, and lots of chocolate for those who figured out the little patterns of my writing...

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Hanging by a Severed Thread

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_For a moment he could only stare as Iroh fell, his face locked in a fiercely determined smile. His nephew waited silently for the old man to rise and laugh... but he didn't._

_Then came fury, anger, hatred, everything Iroh had said was dangerous, all directed at the girl who had murdered her uncle, and their father for ordering the slaughter. She fled, and he knelt and begged the still body to stand and live again..._

_The burial didn't take long._

_The mask hid a mourner's face. And subsequently he fell silent-- _

_Without Iroh, he had no use for words._


	9. Some Things Are Better Left Behind

Disclaimer: I still own nothing...

AN: Yes, this one...Oh well. You'll get another one (a better one) later this week, so please don't kill me yet. And yes, though I was feeling crummy today, I'm still loving Spring Break. Especially since the entire city left for some poor town in Florida, so I have time to myself!

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Some Things Are Best Left Behind

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The Avatar stopped in his tracks.

"Katara?"

She looked up, oblivious to the danger. In a tree above her, Prince Zuko stared at him through his mask.

"Is something wrong, Aang?"

He couldn't say it: if he did, Zuko might attack, perhaps hurt her...

"No. I...wanted to show you...something...come on..."

Though confused, she obeyed. He silently rejoiced.

Meanwhile he babbled random nonsense, pushing Katara closer to Appa, keeping himself between Fire and Water.

He wouldn't tell Sokka-- the Warrior would want to meet his enemy head on.

But the Avatar would never let the Prince near Katara.


	10. Apocalypse Means Revelation

Disclaimer: I still don't own Avatar...yet...

AN: Yes, the title is true. I learned it in Seminary last year (one of the benefits of waking up at five in the morning every school day.) Besides that...enjoy!

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Apocalypse Means Revelation

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Katara knew better than to seek Spirits-- though she knew he was human. Though her companions wondered, but couldn't make herself pause. 

There he was! Sleeping, draped on the uneven ground, that familiar mask smiling at her through his dreams. An ethereal groan resonated from its shadows; she leaned closer.

In the subtle turbulence of sleep he shifted, and the mask fell.

She saw the Earth Kingdom's warrior, the Water Tribe's hunter. A Spirit. A Demon. An enemy. A friend. A prayer answered. A curse fulfilled.

Her gasp roused them all from sleep.

And Zuko's familiar, haunting golden eyes opened.

* * *

AN: I don't like doing this...but here's an explanation before I get some confused questions in my next reviews, which I'm not up to answering individually: As he chased them through the Earth Kingdom, he spent his time fighting, against them, against the Warriors of Kyoshii, against practically everyone he saw. In the Water Tribe, he was more concerned about hunting Aang down than fighting. He never actually worked for either nation. 


	11. Approaching the Dragon

Disclaimer: If I owned any part of Avatar, I would know where the Creators were hiding and have started my hostile takover by now!...Or...I mean...I would bring them cookies...of course...

AN: And the mysterious phantom is...dun dun dun! A random yellow eyed Earth Nation Prince who just happened to steal Zuko's mask when both of thier ships exploded at the exact same time!

...Come on. I know I'm nuts, but I'm not _that_ bad. (Still doped up on medication, though...) (Though I personally think that Zuko is more Tiger than Dragon...but it fits the mysterious/mythical criteria about right...)

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Approaching the Dragon

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She wanted to run—fight...

It wasn't past battles or injuries that flooded her numb mind, nor her dead mother or missing father; instead she remembered Aang, hurt and confused, trapped in the vortex of the Avatar State—and he had needed her most when she was most afraid of him.

Zuko made no sound as he reached for the discarded face. She spoke instead:

"You don't need to wear it if you don't want to." The illusion was shattered, never to be restored. Yet he was still her Phantom, her guide, her confidante.

She would not run from him.


	12. Return to Innocence

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything

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Return to Innocence

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Eternity passed, and he Never spoke.

She reclined against a tree, her mind blank, yet racing. It was true, it made sense...She just wanted Proof, of...what?

Too fast, she took his wrist—his every muscle tensed at the sudden contact, but he did not reclaim it.

It was still his hand, large and strong and gentle, callused from endless training, soft from brushing away her tears.

"Are you hungry?" she found herself asking. He was human, after all, and needed to eat. His emberous eyes revealed confusion.

"It's all right. I won't tell."

With a smile, she vanished.


	13. ReEducation

Disclaimer: ...Do I need to say it?

AN: Sorry...AP tests are a pain, and studying for them is like trying to cram the entire Black Skies Saga (DttBS all the way to Wff) into a single drabble. Not an easy thing to do. So, if you're wondering about why this chapter is particularly disappointing (the next couple should be better), that's my excuse.

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Re-Education

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Over time, she had domesticated the masked phantom, made him her gentle pet, but now it was she who was tamed. 

Slowly she became used to his face, his occasional touch, his presence. Around him she kept no pretense—he knew all her hopes and fears already. The meetings continued, as did the search for Jeong-Jeong. It occurred to her, more than once, to ask him to teach the Avatar, though the words never left her mouth. She didn't know why.

Whoever he was now, he was no longer Her Enemy, and his presence came to mean peace and comfort.


	14. Ragnarok

Disclaimer: Hm... Between the Black Skies Saga, my Iroh/Grangran pairing, Tsune, my horrible update rates, and this, I have a feeling that if I owned Avatar, many thousand people would be attempting to kill me...

AN: This goes out to all the people who are starting to think that this is too slow. And to Prince Suzaku, WolfHawk, and the folks at TEAF who've been keeping up with me while I've been sick/studying/etc.

AN part II: For all those who don't know, Ragnarok is the epic battle of Norse mythology depicting the end of the world. Basically, Loki, god of Mischief, returns from a horrific banishment and ends up fighting the other gods. The battle is so intense (as it tends to be among the ancient Norse) that the gods, the world, and all its inhabitants are to be destroyed in the crossfire. (Also, just FYI, AP stands for Advanced Placement, which is a set of classes that will earn you college credit during high school, which in itself is pretty cool. The test I'm taking isover the history of Europe starting in the 1500's, which basically decides if the time I spent studying will pay off whatsoever, and my teacher and class seem to be attempting to kill off all AP students with all these study sessions, review packets, etc.)

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Ragnarok

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Aang woke into a nightmare: Prince Zuko, hidden in his Mask, knelt inside the campsite, bent over Katara's sleeping form, his hand—now ungloved—extended to touch her face. 

_Burn, Mar, Hurt, Destroy, Kill..._

Aang wouldn't let that happen. Not to her.

He lashed out with a silent whirlwind, ripping his enemy away from Katara, throwing the masked boy from the clearing. Zuko regained his feet, retaliated, but he was no match to blinding wind, freezing water, crushing earth...

The battle raged, but Aang felt no threat of defeat, and he forced the fight ever further from his sleeping friends.


	15. Slip Away

Disclaimer: I don't really think this is necessary, but...heck. I own nothing. Not even the Hamlet quote I use in the Author's note (that one, alas, belongs to Lord Shakespeare, who couldn't even decide on the right way to spell his own name)

AN: Now...To die? To sleep? To sleep, perchance, to dream? I already have the council of one friend in this, but if you choose to vote, consider this: if the story ends, then I can work on my bigger fics (and actually finish some of them before August). If not, then...we'll have to see. Keep in mind that I am still employed, so my writing time will remain constrained no matter which way I go. I think you guys can figure out the rest by reading the story.

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Slip Away

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"We're leaving."

"But what about Jeong-Jeong?"  
"I'll find another teacher."

"Hold on!"

"What is it?"

"I...I have to...go to the bathroom first..." It was a blatant lie, but she couldn't just leave without a goodbye. She raced to their meeting place, but he wasn't there.

"What's taking so long?"

"Girl stuff."

She sprinted on, the marks of a horrible duel unfolding before her, always wider, more fierce...

_No..._

She finally found him, unconscious, his limbs broken, his blood unrestrained. The ice and broken earth gave testament to his attacker, but she felt no anger...just...sorrow.

_Dead? Nearly._

She wasted no time with tears, but unstopped her waterskin, working as quickly as she could.

First his cuts—_Please, please don't bleed to death..._

The shattered bones—_Open your eyes...Come back...Don't die...Don't be too late..._

The dark, unholy bruises—_Wake up, Zuko. Don't leave me..._

Though the worst seemed mended, his eyes remained closed, his heartbeat unsteady. She slumped down, exhausted despair wrestling her determination. Unable to continue, she fell forward, crying again beside him, mourning his loss and the bitterness of her own failure.

And in the ice of despair, she made her choice.


	16. Don't Go Off Alone

Disclaimer: If you still think I own anything...argh...

AN: Suicide, hm? I hadn't thought of that before, actually...

Also, happy Star Wars Day, so May the Fourth be with you...

And just so you know, tomorrow is Doomsday, so if you don't hear from me again, just assume that this story had a happy ending... (or let your imagination run away with you and let me know about your little theories...)

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Don't Go Off Alone

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"Katara! _KATARA_!"

No reply.

They panicked, jogging along the scar of the battlefield. There was mud, scorch marks—_from the night before?_

She was nowhere to be seen.

An empty pool of blood—_whose was it?_

"Zuko was here last night--"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"He could have brought his crew--"

"Where is she? _KATARA!_"

They searched for signs of a ship, of many men, but found nothing. Zuko and his captive had vanished, as though whisked away by the Spirits.

The search continued as day faded into morbid evening without avail.

"Don't worry, Aang. We _will_ find her."


	17. Lament of the Spirits

Disclaimer: I would like to formally apologize for killing Katara...(eyes lynch mob carefully) Just kidding. I'm not sorry at all! And I don't own Avatar.

AN: No, I'm not done toying with your mind. Why? Because it's fun. But please, enjoy this. To make up for my being so cruel, this is a double drabble...somehow, I have a feeling you wouldn't let me get away with a third cliffhanger in a row... So now you get a decisive answer!

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_Don't you believe it!_

_Don't you drink thier poison too--_

_These are the scars thier silence carved..._

_On me..._

-Cling To Me

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The Lament of Spirits

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Sheltered in the hollow of a tree, the young man slept. 

_I'm dead,_ his Spirit whispered.

_Not quite, _replied the Memory of Iroh, a wry grin on its face. The young man needed not say how he missed his uncle, how desperately he needed the old man's company.

_How goes the Hunt?_ the Memory asked, wandering beside the young Spirit.

_I've given up on the Avatar,_ he replied wearily.

_I meant the search for your **Honor**._

The young man's Spirit bowed, but he did not turn away.

_It has forsaken me._

_**She** doesn't seem to think so,_ the Memory observed.

An instant later, he felt a pressure on his hand. His eyes opened, and a shadowy world receded from the blurred realm of the Spirits.

Katara kept a silent vigil above him, her eyes locked on the twilit forest, unaware of his return—it was her hand that clasped his. He stirred, and she started, her body locked in the indecision between recoil and embrace.

"I'm so glad you're alive," she said at last. As he sat up, she rested her weary head on his shoulders, touching him as timidly as though he was formed from glass. "I'm so glad..."


	18. Between the Blows

Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar...wow. I don't think I'd be able to make something as incredible as Zuko Alone, that's for sure.

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Between the Blows

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Relief flooded every fiber of her being, and she found herself overwhelmed. Exhausted from healing him, carrying him to shelter, standing at constant vigilance, she allowed herself to doze. Her one action—a kiss, swift and grateful for his return—blurred into the hazy consciousness of dreams, lost from her mind in all but idle fantasy. 

It was he who played guard as she slept, resting her head on his lap, protecting her from all the fears and dangers of the night, his hands gently smoothing her hair.

As coral dawn brushed the sky, two relentless new dangers emerged: her brother and the Avatar struggled through the foliage.

"_Katara_!"

"Where are you?"

And then, that horrible cry—a battle cry—as they caught sight of his crouching figure huddled in the tree.

"Zuko!" the Avatar cried. But the Water Tribe boy said nothing—his eyes locked on the motionless figure beside his enemy.

"HE'S GOT KATARA!" She began to stir at their shouts.

"I swear, if you've hurt her—"

The young man eased Katara from his lap, prepared to fight to keep her by him, safe from these fools. And in the enraged thunder of battle yet unborn, she woke.


	19. Intervention Divine

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

AN: I'm so sorry! I tried to write more, I really did! But...I couldn't. Not until that last episde kicked my Muses in the shins and made them bring me this image.

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Intervention Divine 

She scrambled to her feet, shouting as hard as her parched throat would allow, but too late—her brother had already plunged forward, racing at Zuko, his battle cry drowning out her plea, his eyes locked on his enemy. She staggered between them, pushing Zuko back, casting his swords aside.Finally, Sokka saw her.

It was too late to stop. Too late to drop the dagger in his outstretched hand.

She felt something pull her from her feet and twirl her around.

She felt a body go rigid.

And the weight of two bodies collapsed on top of her own.


	20. Leave the Tears

Disclaimer: Would you like to know what I own? Three guesses, and the first two don't count! Give up yet? That's right, it's NOTHING! YAY!

AN: Yes, this is insanely long compared to my previous chapters. It is still (I counted) an exact number: 400 words. But there was no way I could wrap everything up the way I wanted in less. So here's to my loyal readers and reviewers, and here's to you, Rashaka!

* * *

Leave the Tears

* * *

Sokka disengaged himself from the heap of bodies, eyes wide. 

Katara was shaking—ten fingers dug into her shoulders in a death grip, holding her close to something warm.

_Zuko_, the siblings realized at once, just as they saw Sokka's knife in the silent man's back.

Slowly, they untangled the truth: Sokka had been unable to stop, Zuko had pulled Katara out of danger's reach, just in time for the sudden impact: Sokka collided with the other two, leaving all three on the ground, one bleeding heavily, his movements oddly convulsive.

Aang stepped forward, puzzled.

"Katara?" he dared ask. She looked feverish, though it was Zuko who lay dying in her arms.

"Water," she said, "Please." Her water skin lay behind her, emptied by the previous day's bending. Aang obeyed, too confused to question. Sokka stayed, though he remained as silent as the Fallen One.

Katara prayed desperately to whatever Spirits and Gods could hear, to give him more time, to give him strength, to sustain him until he could sustain himself.

Aang arrived, Sokka retreated into grim observation, and Katara guided the healing waters across her friend's skin for the second time in as many days.

It wasn't until his fever subsided that the discussions began: _What had happened? How long had she known the shadowy exile? Why had she lied? Sought him out? Healed him?_

_What had she done?_

Their words were too harsh, too loud. They echoed meaninglessly in her skull, and she found herself wishing for her newer companion's understanding silence. She struggled to explain, but her words tangled in her mouth, knotted further by the desperate questions.

And then, everything stopped.

Their demands were met with pensive, resolute silence.

She gazed with loving pride at the Master Waterbender before her, and the Warrior who had perfected his art.

Her explanations became eloquent, the truth that had escaped her tongue before found itself woven expertly into her words.

And though they protested and wept, they could not undo fact. They could not deny destiny.

When they left, she stayed behind.

* * *

Zuko—for his name had been regained—stared at her as the Bison's mammoth shape passed from sight, vanishing into the clouds. There were tears in her eyes, but he made no move to brush them away. Instead he held her, offering him his strength. 

But the tears remained.

They were the source of her strength.

**The End **


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